Winter Solstice
by sister dark
Summary: Chloe finds the truth about the mother that gave her up and walked out of her life, and learns some truths about who she is in the process. Chlark later. ch4 Please read and review!
1. Truth's a Bitch

Disclaimer: I own nothing! if I did, Lana's character would either be written better or left to die in some god forsaken hell hole. Clark would suddenly not have any shirts and neither would lex. So obviously, not mine.  
  
A/N: hi. Its my first Smallville fic in a long time. I used to write under the name of Poor-Ophelia, and it's been a while. Tell me what you think, I adore feed back, even if it is to tell me I should do something useful and kill myself because I'm such a bad writer...although I do hope no one says that. I do my best to answer any questions!  
  
Synopsis: Chloe discovers the truth about her mother. (short I know, but this is all my stupid muse would give me. So if anything, blame it! :::Muse glares, and looks menacing::: I mean...)  
  
***************************************************************  
  
So that was it. It hurt a little, the knowing. I'd always known it was going to, just maybe not this much. That was the truth for you; a bitch and a pain, but my unyielding master nonetheless.  
  
Sometimes I wish I never needed to know. But only sometimes. This was one of those times. I love to question; it's my nature, as much as it is my burden. I'm a reporter, but sometimes I hate the truth.  
  
There she was, happy. Smiling. I reached up and wiped my nose with my mitten, as I gazed through the frosted window. Her hair was longer than I remembered, and she must have had a perm because it was curly now, and it was never curly before. She wore a thick woolen sweater colored a peat brown over black slacks. Mom. Mother. What did I call her now? What was she to me now? Or a better question, what was I to her? A mistake, something unwanted and forgettable, a time of her life she'd rather not remember.  
  
She was playing Barbies with a little girl who had auburn hair, and the same mouth as me, and my mother. "My sister," I murmured. She had big hazel eyes wreathed in dark eyelashes, and rosy cheeks. She was the one that was wanted. Funny. I never would have known, never guessed. Least of all not another daughter. I raised my hand to the cold pane of glass and felt a short stab of jealousy. I didn't even know her name, or how old she was, or if she even knew about me. Probably not, I decided.  
  
I sniffled, and I could feel my throat constricting. That horrible sensation that you know means the tears aren't far off. My vision grew blurry and liquid, and I turned away, accidentally bumping into a tree. The bare branches raked the window, and I ran through the snow towards the side walk, trying to hold back the sobs that fought for control. Down the road was my car. I pulled my green toque down further over my ears, trying to arm myself against the bitter chill that seeped through my coat.  
  
The truth was a bitch.  
  
* * * * *  
* * *  
  
The tree branch slapped against the window pane, alerting the two who sat on the rug.  
  
"Mommy?" her daughter's small piping voice questioned. She dropped her Barbie and walked over to the window, not afraid one bit, fearless. "Who's that?"  
  
Rachel stood, following her daughter, and gazing out at the direction she pointed. A young woman, with short blond hair poking out of her green toque was running down the sidewalk, turning the corner. "I don't know honey. I'm going to make some hot chocolate though, it's chilly. Do you want some?" She questioned, brushing off the strange feeling of familiarity that sparked when she saw the girl.  
Her daughter stayed mute, continuing to stare out the window, vigilant.  
  
"Lucy?" She repeated, "Do you want a hot chocolate?"  
  
Her auburn head turned, and she nodded. "Yes please. Thank you Mommy." She walked back to her dolls, leaving her mother to make the hot chocolate.  
  
* * * * *  
* * * 


	2. The tree

Disclaimer: I own nothing! if I did, Lana's character would either be written better or left to die in some god forsaken hell hole. Clark would suddenly not have any shirts and neither would lex. So obviously, not mine.  
  
A/N: hi. Its my first Smallville fic in a long time. I used to write under the name of Poor-Ophelia, and it's been a while. Tell me what you think, I adore feed back, even if it is to tell me I should do something useful and kill myself because I'm such a bad writer...although I do hope no one says that. I do my best to answer any questions!  
  
Synopsis: Chloe discovers the truth about her mother. (short I know, but this is all my stupid muse would give me. So if anything, blame it! :::Muse glares, and looks menacing::: I mean...)  
  
*****************  
  
I slammed the door shut, sitting on the frozen seat, deafened by the engulfing silence.  
  
I didn't cry. I don't think I was able to. It was too much to take in.  
  
I shook my head, trying to clear it of its confusion, trying to set my mind to rights when everything I'd always thought about her was wrong. I sat there for a long time, staring out the windshield, watching the snow fall. That was simple, that, I could understand, I could comprehend.  
  
I felt wretched. I felt shattered as I stared out that window watching the snow, a numbness creeping over me as I collected the thousand pieces of my broken self, trying to put it all back together again. The existence I had known for certain was not certain anymore. Everything had changed. It was as if God had taken the world and spun it on its head, and everything had fallen from place.  
  
Why dwell on it? I thought to myself. I had always prided myself on looking forward, living for the next day, not yesterday. The past had never been very good to me. It was plagued by all my nightmares, and here they returned, breaking from the confines of my skeleton closet to haunt me in their nearness.  
  
"Like hell," I muttered. Like hell I'm gonna give in, I thought. There is no way that this is getting the better of me. There is no way she's worth this much time and this much pain. And I told myself that, like a mantra as I jabbed the key into the ignition, and finally started the car.  
  
It roared to life, and I pulled from the curb, and drove. It was mechanical and unconscious, I barely noticed I was driving until I saw the sign:  
  
THANK YOU FOR VISITING METROPOLIS.  
  
Three hours left. Three hours of black ice and high winds, which, in itself would have been hard enough, fighting to stay on the road on a night like this, but throw emotions into the mix, and things tend to get a little squicky.  
  
I was fighting the tears, sniffling, trying to drive. I wiped my nose with the back of my hand, and turned the radio up, trying to focus on the road and the music and forget everything else.  
  
I wasn't that far from home now. I knew it even through the blur of white that blocked my view. I was only about fifteen minutes out of Smallville, the Kent farm would be closer, maybe ten minutes away.  
  
Three Days Grace blasted from the speakers, the song ending. The announcer said something I didn't bother paying attention to, and another song began to play. It was Good Charlotte's "Emotionless".  
  
***********************  
Hey Dad,  
  
I'm Writing to you  
  
not to tell you that I still hate you  
  
Just to ask you how you feel  
  
and how we fell apart  
  
and how this fell apart  
  
***********************  
  
I felt my throat constrict again, and the sobs I had been holding down broke loose, my heart wrenching from the pain of it all, everything I'd seen, everything I felt.  
  
**********************  
  
Are you happy out there in this great wide world  
  
Do you think about your sons,  
  
Do you miss your little girl  
  
When you lay your head down  
  
How do you sleep at night  
  
Do you even wonder if were all right?  
  
But we're all right,  
  
We're all right  
  
***********************  
  
I had asked every question, said everything I thought, but not this, never this. I never let my self.  
  
***********************  
  
Its been a long hard road without you by my side  
  
Why weren't you there all the nights that we cried  
  
You broke my mother's heart  
  
You broke your children for life  
  
Its not okay,  
  
but we're all right  
  
I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes  
  
But those were just a long lost memory of mine  
  
I spent so many years learning how survive  
  
Now I'm writing just to let you know I'm Still alive  
  
The days I spent  
  
so cold, so hungry,  
  
Were full of hate,  
  
I was so angry  
  
The scars run deep inside this tatooed body,  
  
Theres things I'll take to my grave,  
  
But I'm Okay, I'm Okay. ************************  
  
All the things I could never have, all the things I'd always wanted, everything I hated to admit.  
  
*************************  
  
Its been a long hard road without you by my side  
  
Why weren't you there all the nights that we cried  
  
You broke my mother's heart  
  
You broke your children for life  
  
Its not okay,  
  
but we're all right  
  
I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes  
  
But those were just a long lost memory of mine,  
  
Now I'm writing just to let you know I'm Still alive, Yea I'm still alive  
  
*************************  
  
It was everything I'd never allowed my self to say, everything I needed to. It made me feel weak and vulnerable. Hungry for sustenance of another kind, and I knew I'd been starving.  
  
***************************  
  
Its been a long hard road without you by my side  
  
Why weren't you there all the nights that we cried  
  
You broke my mother's heart  
  
You broke your children for life  
  
Its not okay,  
  
but we're all right  
  
I remember the days you were a hero in my eyes  
  
But those were just a long lost memory of mine,  
  
Now I'm writing just to let you know I'm still alive  
  
And sometimes,  
  
I forgive,  
  
and this time,  
  
I'll admit,  
  
That I miss you, I miss you  
  
Hey Dad.  
  
*************  
  
I blinked my eyes, trying to force back the tears that streamed down my face, tried to still my trembling body, tried to silence my gasping breaths. I was drowning in it all, everything I felt seemed magnified, rendering me helpless to its effects. My vision grew cloudy with tears, my vision liquid.  
  
The wind buffeted the car, sending it sliding this way and that on the road, until finally; a large oak loomed in front of the windshield, and through my tears, I couldn't see it until it was too late.  
  
"Oh shit."  
  
I slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a deadly spin. The snow swirled around the vehicle as the sound of the brakes screeching filled my ears. Fear grasped my heart and I thought about all I had to lose, my Dad, my Friends, The torch...Clark...The tree approached at a quickening pace, and I couldn't watch. I shut my eyes tight, unsure if maybe it was a good thing, if maybe I just wanted to give in for once, just let go, because it hurt so much. I grimaced as the small car collided with the tree. The crunch of metal was deafening, and vaguely, I could hear my self scream. My head struck the dash board with terrible force, and then there was a jolting motion, and then everything ceased.  
  
I was a wash with pain, every part of my body wrung out with throbbing force, my head felt as if I'd taken a hammer to it. I tried to reach up to see what had happened, but I couldn't make it past my chest. The whole right side of the vehicle was mangled beyond belief, my arm wedged between a ruined seat and the steering wheel. There was a branch impaling the back window, and I sighed in disbelief before the edges of my sight began to fade, blurring, until everything fell into blackness. 


	3. Waking up

******************************  
  
The grotesque grinding sound of metal on metal pulled Clark out of his usual lull, making lunch for the family, who were at the moment, running about the house trying to find their emergency blizzard kit.  
  
He left it all on the counter as he raced from the house. Barely a moment passed before he found the wreck. It was sandwiched around the trunk of a towering oak, the snow falling lightly on it. It was, or had been, a red bug.  
  
"Chloe drives a red bug," He intoned, speeding forward, yanking the passenger side door from its hinges, throwing it about a foot from the wreck. Sure enough, entombed by the collapsed roof and the broken seats, lay Chloe, her arm was trapped between the seat and the steering wheel. Chloe's green toque was falling off her head, her blond hair streaked with red from the gash on her forehead.  
  
"Chloe!" Clark cried, his voice breaking at the sight of her. He forced his way through the mangled car, using his strength the push the seat back in place. From the upward angle of the passenger side, gravity pulled Chloe's prone form forward, and Clark took her gently in his arms.  
  
He set her down softly amongst the drifts, feeling for a pulse. He sighed out the breath he had been holding. He hadn't even known he had stopped breathing, so completely focused on her being alive. She had a pulse, and it was strong, thank god.  
  
"Always a fighter," He managed, "that's my girl. Now to get you to a hospital," he gathered the small blonde in his arms, and couldn't help but think that she felt so fragile, so breakable, like porcelain, and so he held her closer, smoothing her bloodied hair. His breath shuddered, and he willed her to wake up. She was so small in his arms. He kissed her forehead lightly; just a feather's touch, and stood, thankful she was alive.  
  
He set his jaw, and raced homewards.  
  
He arrived, and yelled, "Dad! Mom!"  
  
Both parents rushed out the front door, forgoing the need for coats. "Clark, Where were you! You know you need to tell us when you lea-Oh my God, is that Chloe?" Martha asked, her shock written plain on her face. Her features became maternal as she threw herself out of the gate, over to her son.  
  
"Is she alright?" She asked.  
  
"She's alive," Clark replied, his blue eyes focused on the girl he held.  
  
Jonathan approached, and stated in a matter-of-fact way, "Get her to the hospital, you don't know how bad she's been hurt. Take the truck, Son; we don't want it looking suspicious,"  
  
***************************  
  
I awoke again, trying not to move. Everything hurt, even my eyelids. I blinked, allowing myself to get used to the brightness.  
  
"Chloe?" It was Clark's voice, laced with sleepiness and concern. It was typical, and it was real, and it was the same. That was what I needed right now, for something to stay the same. It brought a smile to my face, knowing he was there, that I could count on him, no matter what happened.  
  
"Hey Clark," I replied, as cheerfully as I could. I looked around at the brightly painted room, took in the uncomfortable mattress, and I knew I was in the hospital. Again.  
  
"I'm gonna get your Dad, He left about a half hour ago to get something to eat. I've got to tell him you're awake, and I'll have to let Pete and Lana know, and my mom, I'll be back in a second, okay?" He announced, hurriedly, a very charming grin plastered on his face. He took two steps toward the door, and then pivoted, as if he had forgotten something. He approached the bed, and bent down, placing a soft kiss on my forehead.  
  
"Thank God you're alright," He said, brushing away a strand of hair.  
  
I grinned. Some things never change, even after all we'd been through, after all our blow outs, all the stupid things we'd done, and it was always going to be Clark and Chloe, best friends. That was something I needed to know right now.  
  
"What would you do without me?" I joked, not in the least modest.  
  
Clark's grin grew mischievous, and he threw back, "learn how to use google for myself,"  
  
I fisted my hand into the other pillow, and hit him in the face with it.  
  
"Obviously your strength is returning," he told me, an eyebrow raised, smirking. He stood, and with another grin, left the room.  
  
I breathed a sigh of relief. As much as I needed him here, I was completely exhausted, physically, and emotionally.  
  
I replayed the scene again in my head, standing outside the window, shivering. Rubbing my mittens together trying to get warm. I thought maybe she'd be-I don't know what I thought, but it wasn't that. Not happy. Not another daughter.  
  
I couldn't tell anyone. I couldn't. I always knew my snooping would get me into trouble, and I looked forward to it, I loved adventure. But this time the trouble was different, and it hurt more than any injury any car crash could inflict.  
  
She looked so incredibly content, sitting there on the floor, playing Barbies with her daughter...with my sister...so motherly. She'd filled out, but not much, she'd always been slim. She had been as beautiful as I remembered; shiny light blonde hair, big green eyes, and high cheekbones. I hoped my little sister was happy. I hoped she was a better mother to her than she had been to me. It looked that way.  
  
And I hated her for it. I hated both of them for it, just a little, deep down in the darkest part of my heart. What was so wrong with me that she couldn't love me like that? What did I do to make her run, to make her leave? What was so special about my little sister that she was so much more worthy of a mother's love than me?  
  
I don't know. I doubt I ever will, sitting there in the hospital bed, surrounded by the bright colored walls, surrounded by silence, I almost wished I had just died and saved myself the anguish that I felt. Was it selfish to feel this way? Was it wrong?  
  
I took in a sharp breath, and forced my mind from the thoughts that ran rampant. There were footsteps out in the hall, and before anyone saw me, I brushed away a stray tear from my eyelashes.  
  
I figured I looked at least moderately presentable, when my dad strolled through the doors, holding a Styrofoam coffee cup. He approached, setting it down on the bedside table and leaned over, pulling me close in a hug.  
  
"I'm so glad you're alright," He told me, stroking my hair.  
  
He sat back, and looked at me. I squirmed under his gaze. It was kind of embarrassing to know that I had one person here who loved me, and I was so hung up on one who so obviously didn't. I felt ungrateful, and undeserving, because here he was, thinning brown hair, pen in his shirt pocket, coffee in hand, telling me how Clark had to rush off to the Talon because he needed to buy me a latte, and the hospital coffee tasted like it was a week old. Dad was everything to me, endearing and sweet and completely how a dad should be, cracking jokes at the power puff girl Band- Aid that stuck to my forehead. It was pink, obviously, compliments of Lana.  
  
I stuck my tongue out at him, and when he wasn't looking, I stole his coffee.  
Gagging on its horrible taste, I mentioned, "Yuck, well Clark's right. This tastes like weak old toilet water. Ewwww...."  
  
Dad laughed, and replied, "Well, we're not all as picky as you,"  
  
"And look what it gets you. Weak coffee that tastes like toilet water." There was a knock on the door, and Clark stuck his head in,  
  
"Did I hear someone say something about coffee?" he asked, walking in, the latte in hand.  
  
I threw him my most enchanting smile, "I could kiss you Clark," I told him, taking the cup from his hands and taking a sip.  
  
"Lana said since your toque is ruined, from getting blood on it and stuff, you can borrow one of hers-"  
  
"I am not wearing some pink monstrosity on my head. I look hideous enough already," I told him,  
  
"I know, I said that-" He looked at my face, and added, "Not *that*, but I said that however much you loved her hats, you'd rather have one more your style, and you don't look hideous, just a little worse for wear,"  
  
I sipped my latte and smiled at him.  
  
"Pete said he'd come by later on and bring by a new toque, he promises no pink, but he is threatening Sponge Bob,"  
  
"Oh the horror," I dead panned.  
  
"anyways," he continued, they'll all be stopping by later today.  
  
"Oh crap," Dad said, looking down at his watch. "I have to go Honey, or I'll be late for work." He bent over, kissed my cheek, and made Clark promise to not let me search for any secret Alien Autopsy rooms, and then took off.  
  
I felt a tear trickle down the side of my face, because I felt so embarrassed and so stupid for going down to metropolis like I had, when my Dad deserved better than that from his daughter. I wiped it away, hopefully before Clark saw.  
  
"What's the matter?" He asked, anxious.  
  
I smirked, and replied, "I was just in a car accident Clark."  
  
He nodded and muttered something adorably obtuse, and suddenly, I just couldn't bear to have him there any more, I knew if I did, I'd sob the whole horrible story to him, and he'd tell me that was what I got for being nosy, that was what I deserved.  
  
No, I knew he'd never say that, but he'd be Clark, and he'd feel terrible for me, and he'd try to protect me like he's always done, even though I never let him. There were so many times I should have listened to Clark, so many times where everything he said would have made sense, if I'd just let it.  
  
Here he was, mumbling about jello and joking about hospital food, and I just couldn't have him in here for another moment. I didn't want him to see me fall apart, tear off my mask, show him all the cracks and chips in my brittle porcelain.  
  
"Clark, I don't really want company right now," I told him, as gently as I could.  
  
"Are you okay? Really?"  
  
I nodded my head. "I just don't want anyone here right now. It's been a bit exhausting,"  
  
He nodded, settling himself in his chair. "Yeah, I guess. I'll make sure no one comes in to visit and bothers you."  
  
"I don't think you quite understand Clark." I told him, "I just want to be alone,"  
  
"I know-"  
  
"Completely alone, no Clark." I added, cutting him off.  
  
He looked a little hurt, his brows furrowed as he stood up. "If that's how you feel," he said softly. He bent down, kissed my cheek and gave me a hug.  
  
"I can be here in a moment; you've got a phone, just call the farm. I can drop anything," he told me, concern coloring his tone.  
  
I nodded, said goodbye, and watched him leave. 


	4. Good Memories

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did, Lex would wear a bunny suit. Why? Because it's be funny!  
  
A/N: I just want to give a huge shout out to everyone who reviewed!!! I love you all! *hugs and kisses*  
  
*The Pheonix-Kiyoshi* Thank you so much for your inspiring reviews!! I do my best to please!  
  
*DDS* I appreciate all your feedback and your insight!  
  
*KatieShaz* thanx, I personally love that song (because I can totally relate-hence-the fic!) and for about the first ten times I listened to it, I couldn't help myself from crying.  
  
*SelenaA*haha...I was hoping someone would pick up on that...yes it will be a chlark! Kudos to you for picking up on some clues!  
  
Now, onto the story!!!  
  
************************************  
  
I was in the hospital a grand total of two days. I broke down and cried, actually really cried, only once. I wasn't going to let myself cry again, because I expected more from myself.  
  
At home, I tried to push the whole horrid trip to metropolis from my mind, but it was no use. I'd find myself doing the dishes and wondering what her name was, my sister, and what it would be like to talk to her, ask her if she had any good memories of Mom. I only had one. Christmas, the year she left.  
  
*********************************  
  
i I didn't think it would be that cold, I hadn't even bothered to put on a proper jacket, preferring my new "Inspector Gadget" sweatshirt to anything. Daddy locked the car, and a brisk wind ruffled his thick brown hair, and he grinned, bending down and taking my hand. Mommy walked around the other side, her long blond hair beneath a toque with a pompom on top, and reached for my other hand.  
  
It was Christmas tradition. There was a neighborhood in Metropolis, and every year, around this time, it would be decorated up like gingerbread houses and the North Pole, Santa's workshop with reindeer and sleighs and tacky Christmas lights. Everyone called it Tinsel town. I loved it.  
  
We walked, hand in hand among the flickering lights and icicles, laughing and taking, pointing at snow men and other decorations. Mommy's laugh was like bells tinkling.  
  
"Mommy, you laugh so pretty," I told her, shivering.  
  
She bent down, kissing my red nose, and replied, "Thank you Chloe, Darling,"  
  
She realized I was shivering, and ran her gloved hands up and down my arms to warm me up, and I felt so happy I could have died, Mommy was happy, she wasn't yelling, Daddy wasn't upset, and he and Mommy were smiling at each other, and it was all Christmas-y and perfect, everything smelled of pine and hot cocoa, and that strange comforting scent that seems to float around every Christmas.  
  
I was starting to get really cold. Mommy noticed, and took off her old woolen jacket with the broken zipper. It had a hole under one of the arm pits, but it was her favorite anyways. She pulled my arms through the sleeves, and zipped me up, and it fell below my knees, but I reveled in its warmth.  
  
We walked down to a man handing out cocoa from his front door, and we asked him how much it cost, but he said it was free, so we all took one, and he slipped me an Oreo too. I grinned at him as we left.  
  
We turned down a corner, hand in hand, all of us, and there was a house decorated up like Mickey's Christmas Carol, and I broke away, throwing myself down the street to where it stood twinkling and colorful.  
  
"Mommy!" I cried, "Daddy! Look! It's Goofy and Mickey and Daisy, Daddy!"  
  
They ambled over at a leisurely pace, but I didn't notice, I was completely in raptures, standing there, itching to run on their lawn. My upturned face was caught in the glow of Christmas lights, and I breathed out, the steam glowing red and blue and green, all the colors of the lights, merrily strung about the trees.  
  
Mommy came up behind me and picked me up, and I whispered in her ear, as if I was afraid to break the spell, "it's like magic Mommy. Magic,"  
  
I could feel her smile. /i ***************************************  
  
I needed to get it out; I couldn't bottle it up anymore and let it rip me apart inside, thinking of her, thinking of my sister, that Christmas. I knew I wouldn't be able to handle it if I didn't, then I'd be giving up, she'd have won, and that wasn't going to happen.  
  
I was not about to spend my days pining for a live I could never have. There was no purpose to it, no reason, yeah; it hurt, but so what? Other people had gone through even worse experiences than me, what right did I have to be so broken up about it?  
  
Lana lost both her parents, and Nell was in Metropolis. Clark was given up for adoption, he didn't even know his real parents, but then he never seemed to want to. Who was I to go around and complain and cry over my mother when I still had my father? When part of my family was still around and still loved me?  
  
I couldn't help how I felt, but getting it out of me some how, some sort of catharsis, that was what I needed to move on. So, three days after I got back home, I sat down at my computer, and opened my private file, my diary.  
  
I poured out all my thoughts, everything I could remember, all the details, how the wind sounded, the feel of the window, how the light glinted off of the table. I didn't leave anything out, how I hated them for being happy, how I begrudged them their life, how jealous I was of my little sister.  
  
All my insecurities and all of my faults were not hidden from that page. I knew my faults, I knew I had them, there was no use denying the fact. I wrote how I wished it could all be different, that I could wish them well, without any jealousy or any hurt. I poured out my soul, bared my heart, everything that had run through my head the past few days. Most of all, I wrote down that I wished I knew why, because that hurt the most. Not knowing why that new life was so much better, not knowing why her new kid was so much more important. Not knowing why she left of what I could have done to make her stay.  
  
It was feelings I hadn't voiced, or even put on paper since I was nine years old, and it was still as raw and volatile as ever. I was wrung out, numb. It was finally done. I sat back, balancing on the back legs of the chair, blinking at the screen, the blue light pouring out of it. I stretched my hands out over my head and yawned. I hit save.  
  
"Hey Chloe," Lana said, her voice soft as always. She pushed the door open a little further, stepping in. "Do you mind if I use your computer? All I need to do is finish up a report on the Napoleonic Wars. It shouldn't take too long."  
  
I shrugged. "I guess. Why didn't you just use Dad's?"  
  
"He's working on it right now, and it's due tomorrow." She told me, pushing her raven hair behind her ears.  
  
"Yeah, no problem."  
  
"Are you alright?" She asked perceptively, "your eyes are kind of red,"  
  
"Oh, me? I'm fine. Just tired." I yawned, brushing it off.  
  
"Alright. You just looked like you'd been crying or something," She said, digging out her diskette from her pink backpack.  
  
She threw a glance over at me and smiled. Sometimes Lana could be too perceptive and other times...well.  
  
"Me? What would I have to cry over?" I scoffed, closing the file and pushing the chair out. "just remember to shut it off when your done," 


End file.
